


You could hit it in the morning like its yours

by watchthequeenconquer



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Barebacking, Body Worship, Butt Plugs, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Sleepy Kisses, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchthequeenconquer/pseuds/watchthequeenconquer
Summary: Butcher wakes Hughie up in the early hours to fulfil an unexplored kink.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 9
Kudos: 152





	You could hit it in the morning like its yours

**Author's Note:**

> Pregnancy kink - if it's not your things, don't read but this is filthy, domestic fluff. 
> 
> Title from 'break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored' by Ariana Grande.

“Up time, pillow princess.” Butcher murmurs, quickly discarding his clothes as he crawls into bed, curling himself around the other sleeping occupant. 

Hughie grumbles predictably, attempts to bury himself deeper into the pillows, while also snuggling back into the man behind him in his best attempt to get comfortable on his side.

“Wrong move, darling,” Butcher grunts to himself. 

His fella looks so goddamn adorable that he was this close to leaving it well enough alone. 

Butcher has come in from a finishing up a mission at sparrow’s fart - the blearing numbers on the clock making the obscene hour painfully obvious. 

Did his job well at home before he left for the night shift too. Hughie has clearly been sleeping like the dead, which is about as lively as Butcher feels after savouring his traditional post work whiskey. 

He’s exhausted. Hughie’s clearly in no mood to be roused, but then he had to go and shove his criminally lovely, bare arse right into Butcher’s waiting crotch.

The game’s afoot, then. 

Fuck words - action has always been his strong suite. Butcher begins sucking messily on his Hughie’s neck, eliciting a frustrated groan from the sleeping form beside him.

“Ngh.” 

“Is that so?” Butcher smirks, huffing out a small laugh that warms the exposed skin beneath his lips into near waking. 

Eager hands caress the barest outline of his ribs, feeling their way by memory down to fondle the gentle curve of his hips. Hughie fucking hates that baby fat there - never lets Butcher pay attention to his sensitive spots - so he’s going to take full advantage of his lack of conscious participation. 

Butcher wanders down to cup those glorious pert cheeks, enjoying their weight as he hefts them in his groping hands. Despite the early hour, he’s already hard and desperate to bury himself back between them. 

“You’re back…” Hughie mumbles groggily, finally getting with the program. The noise he makes in the back of his throat is half way between frustration and surprise as he becomes alert, body unwillingly beginning to respond to the heavy touches already. 

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, babe,” Butcher rasps, tiredness and arousal combining to darken his already gruff tone, “Lucky I didn’t catch you sleeping on your back again, eh?” 

“Pillow helps,” Hughie mutters in confusion. His body is at war with itself, shifting closer to Butcher and crushing the bedding wedged between his thighs as he attempts to shut himself off to the desire building there.

“Well done, sweetheart.” 

Hughie shivers at the praise, a full body tremor that only pushes his arse further into Butcher’s hands as he jiggles the warming flesh. 

“Still sore from earlier.” He says weakly. 

“Did a good job of stretching you open, didn’t I?” Butcher disagrees, unable to help himself as he spreads his buttocks mercilessly further apart with his fingers, “Come off it, bet you’re still dripping with it.” 

He can practically feel his pupils dilating as he takes in the jewelled butt plug nestled in the crease of his crack. 

“Fuck me.” Butcher swears, beginning to rut shallowly against the inviting curve of Hughie’s backside. 

Hughie takes a shaky breath, whining and tipping his head back into Butcher’s shoulder as he feels him moving against him. The lazy thrusts only push the butt plug further inside him, jolting him with the movement. 

“You kept it in, all night?” Butcher asks, trying and failing to keep himself composed. He bites back a moan when he feels pre-come spurt from the tip of his cock, slicking the too-soft skin as he hitches his hips mindlessly.

“Wanted to make sure I was ready when you got home.” Hughie replies quietly, heating up with embarrassment at the private admission. He’s rolling his hips too, pressing his arse insistently back into Butcher, trapping his cock between their gently writhing bodies. 

Butcher moans openly at that, snaking a hand around it to wrap possessively around his belly. 

The younger man squirms uncomfortably when calloused fingers dance down over his ribs to splay across the rounded expanse, tracing down from the apex of the slope to the base at his lower abdomen. 

The thought of his spunk filling the abused little hole, bloating that gorgeous little belly into fullness, is almost enough to make Butcher lose it on the spot. 

“You wanted to make sure it took.” He groans, breathing hotly into Hughie’s ear. 

“Ugh – fuck…yes…” Hughie agrees, shivering at the sudden overwhelming stretch as the plug is removed with painstaking care. 

He flushes at the resounding squelch as the plug exits him, unintentionally humping into the pillow as his cock springs to attention at the hideous sound of the trapped air whooshing out of him. 

“Fucking lovely.” Butcher praises, voice thick with admiration. 

His fingers trace the gaping opening, collecting his spoiled seed as it leaks out and dribbles down the still closed thighs. 

Hughie gasps when he feels insistent fingers stuff the fluid back inside him, the walls of his passage contracting around the intrusion. 

“So empty now.” He shudders, shaking with the onset of sudden, overpowering need. 

“Not fucking wrong.” Butcher growls, “It’s fucking winking at me, begging me to get in there.” 

His arse clenches in anticipation as the leaking head of his dick presses flush against the opening, beckoning him as it undulates. 

“That little cunt of yours needs to be stuffed, don’t it, love?”

Hughie throws his head back into his collarbone, crying out when Butcher enters in one devastatingly forceful motion. 

He doesn’t wait for him to acclimatise to the stretch, begins to move instinctually, possessed by the blinding need to reclaim. 

“Should have you like this all the time, waiting for me like this. Come home every hour on the dot just to service you, pump you full of my spunk then plug you up again and leave you to ripen.”

Hughie’s chasing his own release, the friction of the pillow between his legs just enough as he squeezes his thighs, cheeks clapping with the force of it as he gets off on his lover’s words as much as his presence. 

Butcher pounds into him in short, sharp thrusts. The regimented movements, almost clinical in their precision, in his unwillingness to even bother searching for Hughie’s prostate, make it clear that pleasure isn’t the primary purpose of their hasty coupling.

“You better get used to this extra bit of weight around your middle, pet,” Butcher’s hot breath tickles his ear, followed by his tongue as his buries it into the delicate enclave, causing Hughie whinge uncomfortably as he melts against his chest, eyes rolling back in his skull with lust. 

Butcher is losing his grip on himself. 

He knows Hughie hates him talking about his weight gain, but if he wanted to feel his boner on bone when he fucked, he’d root Frenchie for fuck’s sake. He’s too turned on not to let Hughie know how fucking fit he is, how good his curvy body feels underneath him, around him, swallowing him fucking whole. So, he lets his mouth run away with him as his rhythm gets ahead of itself, intensifying. 

“Soon you’re going to be stuffed fit to burst with my pups, too big to walk. You’ll be lying here all hormonal, playing with your big tits - gagging for relief when you’re too far along to reach yourself around your beautiful, enormous belly, cursing me for leaving you like this and wanting to be back in heat again, all the same.”

Hughie whines openly, matching each thrust with his own sloppy, backwards grind. 

“You’re not going to get a chance to lose any of it, either,” Butcher promises savagely, “You’ll be up the duff again as soon as you’ve pushed out the first lot, won’t even give you time to recover before I’m taking you, conceiving first time.” 

“Fuck yes, want you to breed me so bad,” Hughie cries out, eyes slamming shut, “Need you to fill me up, fatten me up on your cock…FUCK!” 

The hand possessively clutching his stomach tightens, fingers burying into the cushioning, pressing inwards. Butcher swears he can feel himself there, buried to the hilt and pulsing desperately with the need to cover Hughie’s insides with his load. 

The intensity of the closeness is overwhelming – the delicious pressure enough to tip them both over the edge. 

Hughie sobs as the friction of the rough material of the pillow on his untended, dry cock becomes too much - spurting all over the pillow without even being touched. 

On pure instinct, Butcher rears back as he releases, slamming his hips forward and burying himself as deep as he can delve. His timing is impeccable. Hughie’s arse tightens around his dick, spasming as his orgasm crests fiercely. He shouts as he spills, climax torn from him, cock wrung milked dry by the convulsing sheath.

“Drink it up, you greedy little cunt. Every last drop.” He grunts hoarsely, hissing when Hughie’s shudders at his words, clamping down vice tight on his rapidly softening dick. 

He pulls out, torturously slow - Hughie protesting at the loss as he goes, used hole gaping helplessly. Butcher fumbles blindly on the bedsheets, before finding the plug. He quickly shoves the rubber back inside Hughie, trapping his cooling spend inside him.

Butcher makes quick work of rearranging his exhausted lover, ignoring his grumbles. 

“Enough, it’ll take – I’m tired!” Hughie sasses, pouting as his head is manoeuvred towards the foot of the bed so his legs can be properly elevated, slung limply over the headboard. 

“Stop you’re whinging, it’s just for a few minutes.” Butcher smacks him on the ass once, hard, for emphasis as he lifts it, propping it up with the ruined pillow. 

“You stop, you’ll get me hard again,” Hughie winces, pouting as he folds his arms across his chest, only emphasising his nipples - dusky pink and inviting.

“I’m ready for round two if you are,” Butcher grins deviously, dropping his head to tongue at the twin peaks. 

“Can’t wait till these are double D’s – full of milk so I can suckle on ‘em in between feeds. Your stud’s going to need sustenance to keep it up 24/7.” 

“You’re sick – get off me!” Hughie swats at him pathetically, unable to hide his laughter as he shoves his head away from the erogenous zone. 

He shrieks when Butcher tackles him, pulling him into a fond embrace. 

“You were the one that wanted to try for a sprog, you asked for this!” Butcher smirks, peppering him with kisses as he wraps him up in his arms.

Silence sits comfortably between them as they settle, Butcher pillowing his arms behind his head as Hughie snuggles into his chest. 

“Was that…okay?” Butcher asks finally, keeping his tone even and eyes levelled at the ceiling. 

Hughie sighs fondly as the nervous hand carding through the mop of his hair betrays his concern. 

“Could’ve done without the 3am wakeup call…” 

“Fuck off, you said you were ovulating!” Butcher snaps defensively.

Unable to keep up the façade, Hughie bursts into laughter, burying his face in Butcher’s chest as he hugs drags him closer. 

“It was perfect – you’re perfect.” 

“Feel free to say thank you by waking me up with a blowjob in a couple of hours then, ay?” 

Hughie rolls his eyes as Butcher leans in to kiss his forehead cheekily. 

“In my condition? No fucking chance.” 

Butcher shakes his head with a smile, letting the retort die on his lips when he realises Hughie is already softly snoring, head over his heart, legs elevated. 

Bless his kinky little heart.


End file.
